


The Baby Project

by agentmaine



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmaine/pseuds/agentmaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash and Tucker get paired together for a project to look after a fake baby.<br/>[highschool!au]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baby Project

**Author's Note:**

> a super old fic from my tumblr that my girlfriend likes so im posting here! follow me on tumblr at michaeljxnes and come talk to me on twitter at @LAVERNlUSTUCKER

 

“For this project, I will be putting you into assigned pairs.” The teacher states early on a Wednesday morning, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Most of the class just let out a groan at the inconvenience, but nothing too much, as they’re basically all friends anyway. For David Washington, the newest student in the whole school, the words are like a slap in the face.

Wash had successfully went a month without having to talk too much to others. He didn’t have to explain his back story, explain who he was, why he moved, answer all the other annoying questions. But Wash was wise enough to know that this project would be the end of that. God, did Wash wish he was home-schooled sometimes. The teacher read out the list of pairs and classmates shuffled around accordingly, moving to sit with whoever they were paired with. Franklin DuFresne and Franklin Delano Donut. Leonard Church and Michael Caboose. Dexter Grif and Richard Simmons. So on and so forth, until only Wash and another classmate were left.

“Lavernius Tucker,” The teacher pauses, nodding towards the student who was half falling asleep on his notebook. “You will be working with David Washington. Mr. Washington, if you’d be so kind as to move to sit by Tucker.”

With a great attempt not to sigh, Wash gathers his books and moves towards the front of the class, sitting down in the seat beside Tucker while making minimal eye contact with anyone. The student next to him didn’t seem to care, Wash figured, as the boy was almost falling asleep once more. Slowly, after what seemed like a century, the teacher began to explain the project. Wash delivered a sharp elbow to Tucker’s arm, sending him jolting awake.

“The hell was that for?!” Tucker complained, pouting childishly and rubbing his arm which really didn’t hurt as much as Tucker was making it out to.

“I was doing you a favour. Thought you might want to understand what we have to do.” The blond deadpanned with a sigh,

“Ugh. _Whatever._ Also; you can speak! I’m amazed.” Smirked Tucker confidently, before turning his attention to the teacher.

“Okay, class. As I’m sure you know, this is your health care class. This year, you will be assessed on how well you can look after a child. Not a real one, of course, but the RealCare Baby Infant Simulator!” He explains with great excitement. The teacher drones on for what seems like hours about the task, how to look after the baby and all other things. When the babies are finally handed out, there’s multiple reactions from across the class.

“Oh. My. God. Doc, its like we’re actual parents! What shall we name her? OH! Can we go buy her some new clothes?” Donut babbles from the back of the class, almost bringing a smile onto Wash’s face.

“CABOOSE. Get your hands away from the fucking… Robot, devil, baby thing! You are not making me fail this!” An aggravated Church yells as a grinning Caboose tries to grab at the baby like a kitten after some string.

Meanwhile, Grif and Simmons were already bickering about if they were a male and female couple, who’d be the Mom and who’d be the Dad. Wash hadn’t been at the school long and he already had suspicions of what was going on between the two of them.

When Wash is finally handed his and Tucker’s child - strange, Wash thought, having a child with someone you’ve said one sentence to - Tucker was intimately grinning, a bright, beautiful smile but one that Wash didn’t really trust.

“Dude. We are SO naming this kid Lavernius.” Tucker pauses, taking hold of his new son and lifting him up, Lion King style. “He looks like a Lavernius.”

“Wait, what? No, wait. Slow down. Shouldn’t we focus on actually caring for the baby?” Wash insists more than suggests, running his hands though his hair with a sigh.

“Pft, nah. Washington, Wash, whatever; we got this in the bag.”

-

Wash walks toward’s where Tucker said his house was on a cold Thursday evening, a week and a day after the project began. While walking, Washington went over what he knew about Tucker in his head. The boy was somewhere between annoying and funny. Often leaning more towards annoying in Wash’s opinion, but he had to admit that the other boy had managed to have him in stitches multiple times.

It felt good to laugh.

He was stubborn. Tucker had argued for a good half hour so that their “child” could be named Lavernius Tucker the Third. Or Junior for short. He was inappropriate. So far, Wash had spent a week sat next to Tucker, and Wash was hearing almost non-stop sexual jokes or bad pick up lines. He was nosy. As Wash had feared, Tucker had asked questions about why Wash moved. What he did for fun. What his family was like. Luckily, though, when Wash said he didn’t want to answer, Tucker complied to that with nothing more a shrug and a ‘whatever, man, talk about stuff when you want to.’

Overall, Tucker was decent. There were worse people to be paired with.

Wash arrives at what he hoped was Tucker’s house, knocking on the door firmly three times. For the first week of the project, the two boys spent alternating nights looking after the baby, never once going to the other’s house. But now the two had to write an essay together, and they figured they may as well go to Tucker’s house. Wash was brought away from his thoughts when Tucker opened the door, grinning.

“Hey! Come on in, Wash. Baby’s upstairs.” Tucker says happily, pulling Wash inside. His dreads, usually neatly tied up in a ponytail, were in a lazy “get out of my face” bun on his head. Wash notices that he’s in a baggy shirt with what Wash guessed was some band’s logo on, jeans and large, thick-rimmed, fake glasses on. The blond fights back an urge to smirk, not having expected Tucker to look like an attempted hipster outside of school. The next thing Wash is aware of is him being tugged upstairs, having been gathered in his own thoughts. Thoughts about how Tucker looked.

Wash figured he should stop that.

Tucker bumps the door to his room open less than gracefully, and Wash chuckles while walking inside and taking in the sight. Clothes were piled haphazardly in corners and children’s toys were scattered across the floor. Raising an eyebrow, Wash looked towards the baby, or 'Junior’ as they called him, who was sat in a baby chair. In all honesty, Wash was surprised that Tucker was taking this project so seriously.

“So. Essay.” Tucker states, as if informing Wash of what he has to do. The smaller boy flops onto his bed. “The fuck are we gonna write about?”

“Well,” begins Wash, only to be interrupted by a loud wail from Junior.

“Daddy’s got it!” Tucker jumps up straight away, taking Tucker Jr. from his chair and rocking him back and forth in his arms gently. It takes no more than a moment for the baby to quiet and while Tucker just smiles smugly, Washington is left with his mouth open in shock. It always takes Wash at least a minute to calm the baby, and that was something Wash thought he could be proud of. But Tucker; yes, Tucker, clumsy, unorganised, lazy, Tucker, was apparently really good at this.

“How… the hell did you do that?” Wash asks in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

“It’s easy! Lemmie show ya’.” Tucker grins, walking to Wash and placing the baby in his arms carefully, as if he were a real child.

Tucker studies Wash for a moment, eyes squinted and looking him up and down. Wash fights the urge to squirm under Tucker’s gaze, wondering just why he is so intimidated by the shorter boy.

“Okay, man, you kinda suck at this.” He chuckles, stepping behind Wash in one swift movement.

Gentle, warm hands move Wash’s hand to the baby’s lower back and butt, then raise his elbow Junior’s head is lifted higher. He then takes Wash’s other hand and puts it against the side of the baby, then presses the baby closer to Washington’s chest. His hands hesitate where they are for a moment too long, dark, warm hands against Wash’s cool, pale and freckle-splattered skin. Just as Wash began to relax to the touch, the two are brought back to reality. Way too soon, in Wash's honest opinion. Stepping apart quickly, Tucker coughs awkwardly while Wash turns, hiding his red face while putting the baby in the chair.

He fights not to wonder why some guy he barely knows touching him makes his face beetroot red and heart pound like a drum.

“So.” Tucker says after a long minute of silence. “Want to play some video games?”

For the rest of the night, the paper goes untouched.

-

Two weeks later, Tucker and Wash are like old friends.

Wash is officially introduced to the rest of Tucker’s friends and hell, Wash thinks he’s never felt so accepted so quickly. He sits with them at lunch, works with them in lessons, and is not once forced to tell them about his previous life. He’s grateful for that. Tucker and Wash spend every night at one of their houses, then often text each other as soon as one of them has to leave. Their baby, Junior, is well looked-after. Though there are numerous arguments about 'if they were a male and female couple, who’d be the Mom’, mainly because of Grif and Simmons bringing up the topic. Tucker threatens divorce at one point.

School was once a mountain for Wash. A battle to get though and just an unhappy part of his life. But thanks to Lavernius Tucker, of all people, he feels like he’s at a second home.

On the Saturday of the third week, the two boys decide that they should actually do the project instead of fucking around. They work for hours and manage to produce a paper that they deem to be award worthy. After a phone call to Wash’s Aunt, an impromptu sleepover is arranged. Its much too dark and cold and whatever other excuses the two come up with for the boy to leave, anyway.

At 3am, Wash is laying on one side of the bed, while Tucker is sprawled out on the other. Silence and sleepiness has settled over them like a blanket, but one the two are comfortable with. Neither admit to the other that they’re tired, deciding that staying awake is worth it.

“Wash. You awake?” Tucker whispers, breaking the silence. He continues when Wash sits up, facing towards him. “So, like, if you’re comfortable with it… Why’d you move here?”

Wash hesitates and weighs out his options. On one hand, he can refuse to tell Tucker more about himself. On the other, he can talk about shit for once in his life. He figures that Tucker isn’t the type to judge, and that it actually might help to open up. It may be the fact that the blond is starting to feel a warmth in his chest whenever he sees the sarcastic asshole, or the fact that its 3am, but Wash decides to open up.

“Uh. See, I went to this academy. For years, it was great there. All my friends were years above me but they made me feel at home, y'know? So of course, everything was fine. Until they left. Then, then things went bad. I was targeted by bullying that kind of made my life a shit hole, and there were family problems, too. So I moved here. And at first, refused to make friends because I was scared of bullies. And, I guess… Scared of being left behind again. Until I met you, and then all the rest of your friends. My friends, now. I hope.”

Wash smiled softly as he finishes speaking. He shrug his shoulders as if it were nothing, but its obvious to the boy now sat facing him that it’s certainly something.

“Wow.” Is all Tucker says.

“Can I ask you something, now?” Wash questions, trying and failing not to notice the two of them are sat so close their knees are touching, and their faces aren’t far apart at all, either. Tucker nods silently, gesturing for his friend to continue. “How come you’re so good with kids?”

“Well, that’s a simple question.” Tucker grins. But its not his usual smile. It doesn’t light up his eyes, and Wash hates that he notices that.

“I’ve got three younger siblings, as you know, obviously. And I’ve kinda raised them all. Still raising the youngest now. That’s why I’m good with 'em. My Mom works night shifts, so she can’t look after them during the days they’re off school because she needs to get her sleep. My Dad works away, so he’s usually on trips and you can’t look after kids from miles away. We can’t afford a baby sitter 24/7, so I look after them a lot. I love them to death, but hell, its hard work. So… That’s why I’m glad I met you. You’ve helped me relax a fuck load.”

“Oh. I see.” Is all Wash says.

He tries to blame it on the fact that its 3am. He’s just tired. He doesn’t really feel this way. But as Wash looks at Tucker, more open and vulnerable than he’s ever seen him before, he can’t convince himself.

Wash leans in without thinking any more and presses his lips to Tucker’s firmly.

A slightly surprised noise comes from the boy, but no other reaction. And that’s when Wash realises he may have fucked up. He gets up, face redder than what he thought was humanly possible and scrambles towards the door, spewing apologies as he goes. Its not his fault he trips over a wire on the way.

As he lays on the ground, the blond re-evaluates every single one of his life choices that have lead him up to this moment. Breaking his 'no attachments’ rule was probably a big mistake in hindsight. Kissing his closest friend is now seeming like a big fucking mistake, too. Attempting to run away after kissing said friend also seems a rather disastrous idea. The whole 'actions speak louder than words’ motto did not seem to be working in Wash’s favour.

Tucker bursts out laughing just as this thought whizzes through the other boy’s mind like a race car.

He gets up and walks to Wash, holding his hand out to help him up, a grin on his face that sparks hope inside of his friend. Wash takes the hand gratefully and Tucker pulls him up, wheezing slightly with the effort. However, despite his heroic efforts, Tucker had not accounted for a 6'2, clumsy, teenager to lean his entire body weight on him once stood up on his own two feet. The two crash onto the bed, narrowly missing the floor and somehow, in a tangle of limbs, Tucker ends up using his friend as a mattress.

“You are the clumsiest fucker. Ever. Of all time.” Tucker laughs, so close to Wash their noses are practically touching, their lips inches apart and eyes locked with the other's. Damn, Tucker is pretty up close.

“Yeah, yeah… I know. Fuck. I’m so, so, sorry. Uh. For the, uh, tripping over incidents. And the kissing. Really sorry for that. I don’t know what came over me. It was a mistake. Not that I regret it! I liked kissing you. Well. Maybe I shouldn't have. Okay, yeah, mistake. But not because of you! It was me and- And I’m rambling.” Wash finishes speaking with a pained groan and goes to apologize once more when a pair of lips are pressed to his own.

'Holy shit, Tucker is kissing me.’ is the only thing Wash thinks before kissing the smaller boy back, eyes fluttering shut and arms wrapping around Tucker’s waist. There are worse ways to be shut up. Lips move against his own and the warm hands that Wash never wants to let go of cup his face ever so gently, a thumb rubbing over his jawline lightly. Wash presses Tucker closer, if at all possible, not wanting to let that heat leave his body.

Seconds, minutes or hours later, when the two pull apart, nothing is said for a good few minutes. Their foreheads press together and their breathing synchronizes to a slow, steady pace.

“Hey,” Tucker mumbles eventually, not opening his eyes. “If that baby cries, you’re still the one doing night duty.”

Wash chuckles, bringing a hand to run through Tucker’s hair.

“Screw you.”

 


End file.
